


Benefits

by Rochelle_Rochelle



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Joanlock - Freeform, Sexual Content, Smut, kinda smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6653860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Rochelle/pseuds/Rochelle_Rochelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second chapter added, a short one. Borderline explicit. Joanlock smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One step at time. Just one step at a time. Knowing she could turn and run back upstairs at any point made her descent easier and more difficult at the same time. 

Another step. Her stomach fluttered and her shoulders tensed with each footfall. Every sensible molecule within her screamed for her to return to the safety of her room. She clenched and unclenched her hands but continued down.

One more step and she was on the first floor; all dark except for the light coming from the lock room. She had hoped he'd gone to bed and she would be spared the opportunity of making a fool of herself. Sherlock never made things easy. 

She released the breath she'd been holding and walked towards the lock room.

He sat with his back to her, the glow of the laptop casting an electronic blue halo around him. She leaned her shoulder against the wall and watched him. She wanted him. The feeling had grown steadily through the day. She repressed it, submerged it, holding it down until she thought the urge was dead. But in the darkness of her room, it pushed itself up and out and with a desperate gulp demanded her attention. She needed him.

She wavered as the remnants of her upbringing, echoed in her head, attempting to shame her:

It is wrong to ask.  
No respectable woman asks.  
Women do not ask for sex.

She knew he wouldn't reject her but it went against her nature. Joan didn't ask for things. She certainly never asked for anything just for herself. 

 

His voice surprised her. "You're up! I thought you'd be fast asleep by now." He spoke without turning. Joan remained back far enough to allow for a hasty excuse and a swift retreat.

"Mm hmm. I couldn't sleep." A tone to her words, a tenseness in her voice, made him turn around and scrutinize her. Genuine concern registered on his face and she felt even more foolish. 

It was not a conscious decision; her body moved towards him of its own accord. She stopped beside his chair, arms crossed in front of her, controlling the urge to run. 

He looked up at her, shorts and a tshirt and that old red cardigan she wore more for comfort than warmth. "Watson? Is something the matter?" 

She avoided answering him. "What are you doing?" Joan squinted at the screen.

Sherlock enthusiastically swirled his mouse around and the cursor chased itself across the screen. "Conspiracy forum!" He grimaced happily up at her. "Some one has posited that the government has a mole within the ranks of the board admins."

"You?" She smiled at him.

He shrugged with boyish modesty, "Possibly .... A few more well placed comments and havoc is bound to ensue." He looked quite pleased with himself.

"Well, I can see you're busy, I'll just leave you to it." This was not the right moment.

"Something is bothering you. Out with it." Her stomach jumped.

Joan stared down at his keyboard rather than at him as she talked. "You remember the conversation we had at the beginning of this month? About us. About our uhm," Her eyes jumped back to his face, checking for comprehension, "... needs."

"Yes," he replied. "It was more than just conversation as I recall." 

She nodded remembering the careful and rational conversation they'd had about expanding the definition of their friendship and the not so cerebral actions that followed the agreement. 

"I was feeling ... That is to say I want .... " Embarrassment lit a fire within her, she was sixteen again. She cleared her throat. "You know, maybe this isn't the best time. You're busy here." Joan moved to leave but was stopped by his hand at her hip. His other hand closed the top of the computer, sending the room into darkness. For a moment, motionless in the quiet, acclimating to the touch, each sought to control the racing heart and quickened breath.

Sherlock inched forward until his forehead lay on her midriff. Without moving, he sat, breathing in the moment, waiting for her. Joan's hand instinctively moved to the back of his head. Her fingertips lightly stroked his hair, reassuring him by her touch that this was what she wanted. 

With small circles, his nose nuzzled and his lips began their caress through the soft cotton of her tshirt. Joan responded by moving closer, her body moving to his. Self consciousness drifted away. They understood each other, what they wanted, with or without words, they understood.

Soft gasps escaped her as he raised her shirt. His lips found her soft skin and pressed kisses each by turn more forceful, more passionate. Joan relaxed into his touch, reveling in each brush of mouth against her skin. The rasp of his stubble and tender bites alternated with the soft lick of his tongue and pull of his lips as he descended the length of her abdomen produced low moans of pleasure and the whisper of his name to pass her lips. He responded with guttural grunts and redoubled efforts, his hands at her back pushed her further to him.

Sherlock tugged at her shorts just enough to have them slip down past her hips. He looked up at her waiting for permission while his hands moved down the length of her thigh and then incrementally back up.

Her breath caught and held for a split second before she bent her head to his and took his face into her hands. Joan's lips crushed into his. As her tongue sought entrance, his lips parted and his hands moved from her legs to hold her head, to steady himself and her as they lost themselves within the other.

They pulled away for air, forehead to forehead, Joan spoke between breaths, "My room? Your room?"

"Sofa," he responded and stood up. "I don't think I can make it up or down those stairs." Joan smiled at him. She removed her cardigan, and he, his tshirt, as they walked towards the library. Joan sat at the edge of the sofa and removed her top. Silhouetted in the pale yellow streetlight that seeped in through the shutters, her bare upper torso drew him towards her. 

Sherlock kneeled before her. His finger tips roved up her thighs and his body moved between her legs. He worshipfully kissed his way lightly down from her neck to her breast. He teased and nibbled, suckled and kissed until Joan, squirming with pleasure, could take no more. She let her body fall back onto the sofa and brought him with her; the feel of his hairy chest on her skin, the muscles rippling beneath her hand further fueled her desire. 

Sherlock completed the task he started in the other room and removed her shorts in one sharp move. He felt her hand thrust into the waistband of his sweatpants. He moaned as she caressed and squeezed his hardened form with one hand while pulling down on the fleece material and freeing him with the other. Sherlock lowered his body onto hers, eagerly seeking her center as she clutched him to her, opening herself to receive what she'd been hungering for.


	2. Chapter 2

Sweat trickled between their bodies. Face down, Joan's cheek lay flat on the soft couch cushions. His muscled body lay sweet and strong on top of hers. She could feel his every breath, his every quiver, along the length of her naked body. The remnants of their orgasm ebbed and their breathing slowed. He relaxed into her, and both moaned softly as the orgasm's aftershock lightly rippled through their bodies once more.

Joan felt his head come to rest between her shoulder blades. They lay quietly until the gentle sounds of the night regained their dominance enjoying the remnants, the touch, smell, sight and sound, of their encounter. 

After a time, Sherlock, shifted his weight and cool air played between their bodies. His hand reached and fingers played through the wet darkness of her hair. He parted and lifted the moist strands up and away, revealing her nape, glistening before him. Sherlock dragged his body up against hers, trailing his lips against her skin until he reached her neck. There, his mouth plunged onto that sweet spot, beneath her ear, close to her jaw, that he learned, earlier in the evening, made her undulate with pleasure. 

Joan gasped, her body flooded once again with desire and she maneuvered herself so they were now side my side on the couch. She grabbed at his hair and pulled him in closer. He stopped, his mouth moved to her ear. "This isn't going to work," he whispered as his hands groped at her back, his thigh pushed between hers. 

Trying to catch her breath, a confused Joan breathily responded, "You want to stop?" No matter what his answer might be, his body was telling her, showing her, he did not want to stop.

"No," his answer was quick and emphatic. "I mean this whole friends with benefits agreement we entered into." Her hands distracted him; his eyes shut at her touch, strong and masterful. She too had learned earlier this evening what he enjoyed and where. 

Joan suddenly stopped, much to his disappointment. "What exactly are you saying Sherlock?" 

"Our agreement is too limiting ..." he rushed through his words, just wanting her to continue. "Only once per week and no more than three times a month is out of the question. I'm going to need more of this, of you..." 

Relief overwhelmed her and she smiled as she resumed her previous activity. He surprised her by suddenly placing her flat on her back and moving down her body as he spoke, "How about, we keep going, until one of us says 'stop.'" His head poised between her legs, he waited for her response.

She tried to catch her breath, the sense of anticipation, his mouth hovering over her, the pulse of his breath on her as he awaited her response overwhelmed her and she had to concentrate to produce words. "Yes. Agreed. Yes, please. Now." Her voice was a low rasp. Her hips moved up to meet him and all further dialog was lost.


End file.
